


Conjure Up A Fiction

by Anonymous



Category: I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Dallon is sad, Depression, Self-Harm, Tyler is such a good friend, this is a vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 21:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14702565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Five times that Dallon hid his struggling, and the one time he couldn't.(semi-based off of notquitepunkrock's "And One Time..." universe, but you can easily read it separately)





	Conjure Up A Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Modern Day Cain" by I Don't Know How But They Found Me.
> 
> This story is dedicated to Sara.

1.

He hated when he felt like this. Like the world was crashing down, breaking into pieces around him, and he could only stand there, watch it all fall apart. He had an essay due tomorrow, his parents were on him about volunteering, he had to study for the SATs—

"Dallon!" He heard his name to his right, dragging him out of thoughts, and he consequently snapped his head around to reveal the speaker of the words.

It was Brendon, of course, standing next to Dallon's red locker with a slight smirk. "Where have you been? C'mon, I've been waiting for you at the stairs!"

Every day before block three, Dallon would meet Brendon at the north stairwell to head to their fifth period, and they would proceed to walk up to their history class that they shared. It was tradition, and they hadn't deviated from that plan at all this year.

Dallon took a step back, frazzled. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, rubbing his hand across his face. "I'm a bit out of it today—just tired—you know?" He added a smile after noting a slight drop in Brendon's face; he did not want to raise any suspicion. The last thing he needed was Lindsey Ballato tracking his every move.

"The warning bell already rang," Brendon warned. "We better go."

"Like you care about being late," Dallon teased lightly.

Brendon rolled his eyes in response but smiled nonetheless, grabbing the other boy's arm to drag him toward their history class.

Luckily, they made it to history just as the bell rung.

 

2.

He totally just bombed that physics test.

But he didn't understand why. He had stayed up to midnight studying last night, and the night before, and the night before that. He went through every worksheet and every practice problem the book offered, and yet, he still managed to get to the test and feel as if he knew nothing. His classmates agreed that it was ridiculously difficult, but they easily shrugged it off.

"I don't really care if I fail," the kid behind him laughed when Dallon expressed his concerns. "I knew I was going to anyway."

"It's just a test," another girl chimed in, "I barely studied anyway."

But to Dallon, it wasn't just a test. This was a part of his grade, a part of his transcript, a part of his college application, and that practically decided how his future would evolve. This test also served as a proof to himself that he was worthy and smart enough and able to accomplish things (but ironically, even with good grades, he could not maintain a positive self-image).

However, to him, this physics test was the start of a cascading, downward spiral. Maybe he forgot how to study, and maybe he would fail every other test in his future. Plus, if he was going to put all this effort to study and still do poorly, why even bother anymore?

Dallon was shaking as he left the classroom, sprinting ahead of the herd and immediately rushing toward the bathroom. His fingers were trembling as he reached for the lock on the stall that would finally offer some privacy, and he slumped against the wall defeatedly and buried his face with his hands.

He would be careless to just let himself cry, though; the aftermath of red, puffy eyes would easily give him away. He had to use the six minutes of passing time to compose himself and erase any signs of struggle, although he longed to be in his bed alone, free to break down without consequence. The reality of the situation simply didn't allow for that.

Thus, he took deep, controlled breaths as he tried to straighten himself upward, remembering what Pete had said when trying to calm Patrick down from his panic attack. He hated feeling like his mind was running outside of his frame, disconnected and detached. However, by focusing on taking deep breathes, slowly but surely he could feel his breathing evening out and a pounding headache settling in. An odd swell of exhaustion and numbness settled into his bones, replacing the vibrance and unsteadiness of his anxiety.

Eventually, after several minutes, he was able to gain enough composure to head back to class. He scurried through the hallway trying to avoid contact with his friends, and fortunately, none of them were in sight.

Just like last time, he made it to his next block as the bell rang, and no one had noticed a thing.

 

3.

"I think I'm just going to stop trying," Dallon slammed his math binder together at lunch. Then, he fiercely zippered his pencil case shut and stuffed it into his backpack.

Brendon, who was sitting next to him, developed a frown. "Dal, what's up? You're great at math."

"It's too much work," he took a breath, leaning against the chair. "What's even the point? What am I working toward?"

"Didn't you say you wanted to get into a good college?" Brendon asked back gently.

"Do I?" Dallon snapped back, and Brendon retreated.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I was just trying to—" Brendon mumbled, the words spilling rapidly.

"No, no," Dallon shrugged loosely. " _I'm_ sorry. I'm just tired. It feels like everyone's on my case."

Dallon internally winced as the words spilled out before he even processed them. He couldn't reveal too much information, but at this point, it was getting hard to keep conjuring up a fictitious, outward persona whenever he was around his friends.

"Hey," Brendon turned his head, eyes sadly falling on the boy. "You work so hard. You need to give yourself some credit."

"Thanks, Bren," Dallon managed a light smiled, "but I'm okay. Like I said, I'm just tired. That's all."

Brendon seemed as if that answer was acceptable to him, but Dallon swore he saw Lindsey eyeing him from the corner of their lunch table.

 

4.

He couldn't believe that he was actually doing this. Everything was making him feel on edge these days, and it seemed to all accumulate to this moment. The piece of metal felt so small in his hands, but the power it possessed was tremendous.

That night, he thought about how worthless and meaningless he was, how lonely he felt, and how he just wanted to disappear. He fell asleep with tears streaming from his eyes. He was either going to float away from feeling so light or sink through the floor from feeling so heavy.

 

5.

The group was having a sleepover at Pete’s house.

Normally, Dallon looked forward to the nights that his friends spent huddled together on the couch in the basement, watching some movie they all had seen countless times over. That is usually when he felt the most free, the most like himself.

However, this time, he knew that spending time with the group would just mean exhaustion. Every smile and laugh that he managed would be ingenuine, and his facade was draining to maintain. Not to mention, he had piles of homework waiting to be finished. He could use that as a plausible excuse, but it was still mostly true.

“So, are you coming?” Pete turned to him at lunch, eyebrows raised. “You didn’t respond in the group chat.”

Dallon stuttered for a second. “Uhh—I—”

“Come!” Patrick encouraged him from the seat next to Pete. “What else do you have to do?”

Dallon gulped. “Homework?”

That’s when Lindsey chimed in: “That’s all you seem to be doing. You deserve some fun.”

He struggled to find words in opposition, but he knew internally that had no other option than to cave in. He suspected that he was already on Lindsey’s radar, and he didn’t want to make any moves that raised even more suspicion. He didn’t need anyone finding out what was going on in his head, and even more so, he didn’t need anyone else to find out what was behind his long-sleeved shirts.

So Dallon responded reluctantly with, “I guess I’ll come,” and he heard a small eruption of cheers from one end of the table. Did he really matter that to them?

_Probably not,_  he thought to himself later that night while staring at himself in the mirror at Pete’s house. He had been in the bathroom for about ten minutes now, and he was surprised that no one had come chasing after him.

He wasn’t even sure how he ended up in here. He had growingly felt distant and detached from everyone in the basement, and it seemed like every person had someone _else_. Pete had Patrick, Tyler had Josh, Frank had Gerard, Jenna had Debby—the list was endless. Brendon, too, seemed to be talking with Spencer throughout the night, and Dallon just drifted away with noone to stay close to. He should have stayed home and made up some larger excuse involving family obligations. That would have worked. He didn’t really need friends anyway.

But suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and the startling noise caused his heart to leap in his chest.

“One second,” he called out shakily, starting to run the water to make it seem like he wasn’t just standing there and shaking and muttering to himself. He counted to thirty before he thought it was a normal time to open the door, and was abruptly greeted with Tyler standing outside.

“Sorry,” Dallon mumbled, stepping out of his way quickly. 

“No, it’s fine,” Tyler responded suddenly, looking up. “I actually came up here to make sure you were okay.”

Dallon’s face dropped. “Well, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Tyler frowned. “You’ve seemed—I don’t know—a little distant lately.”

Dallon wanted to scream, _Yes, I feel distant_ . _I feel alone and trapped,_ but his tongue felt heavy and his cheeks felt hot. Admitting something would make it real, and he would have to deal with it. He wasn’t ready to do that.

“I’m honestly fine,” Dallon repeated, smiling.

Tyler cleared his throat and paused momentarily. His eyes lowered, and his voice grew soft. “You know, you can always reach out to me if you need someone to talk to.”

 Dallon stood there silently for an instance. He noted Tyler’s lower lip trembling, and the red rubber band around his wrist.

 “I’m okay,” he finally breathed out, and he walked away.

 

+1

It wasn’t even that late in the night. The digital clock by his bedside revealed that it was only a quarter past ten, yet he felt as if he had been up for years. Exhaustion and fatigue ate at him, and the tears in his eyes definitely weren’t helping the matter.

His bathroom floor was cold and unwelcoming as well, but it had been his home during these past couple of weeks. He was used to it.

Just like he was used to being thrown around from day to day. Just like he was used to the loneliness eating at his bones. Just like he was used to setting high expectations and falling apart as he tried to meet them.

But during that previous morning, his mom had yelled at him for not keeping his room clean. His second block teacher had assigned a large essay due the following week. And tomorrow, he had a large history test.

He just couldn’t do it, and he felt so _pathetic_.

His fingers had been trembling as he pulled out his history textbook from his backpack, and his tears blurred the words on the pages when the sentences just hadn’t made sense. There were too many dates, too many people, and too many time period; he could not process it all. Who in their right mind had this reaction over _a history test_?

He then tried to start his essay, but his shaken state was producing nothing of value. He needed to get a high grade on this assignment though, and he wouldn’t have any time this weekend to work on it due to volunteering his parents had scheduled for him. He had to allot time to get in an SAT practice test sometime soon, so that meant he had to complete this essay tonight. _And_ go back to studying for his history test. _And_ clean up his room so his mom wouldn’t continue to be angry.

And just like that, it was all too much.

_It isn’t worth it to keep fighting_ , he shook his head rapidly, _It isn’t worth it anymore._

Everything was a swell of both intensity and numbness, and Dallon didn’t know how both feelings could coexist at once. His mind felt delirious, perceiving every sense as amplified and big and loud, but a feeling in his stomach felt dull, almost careless. The cold of the bathroom floor produced an icy chill through his back, and he let himself collapse to his side.

He felt so terrible yet so apathetic about everything, that it momentarily crossed his mind so maybe, finally, reach out to someone.

Brendon was most likely awake, but he was probably playing video games or scrolling through Tumblr. He didn’t want to bother him.

Lindsey would surely answer any of his calls, but after he hung up, he wouldn’t be able to escape her watch. He didn’t want to evoke this.

Pete would be the person to completely understand his struggles, but he knew that he was still fragile and recovering from his own struggles. He didn’t want to trigger him.

But then Dallon remembered the one, viable option he did have, and before he even contemplated the potential risks, the sound of the other line ringing was buzzing through his phone. It was only seconds before Tyler answered, and Dallon’s stomach immediately scrambled up in warm knots. Everything was moving too fast; it was all a blur of colors and sounds and moments, until something was finally clear from the other side:

“Dallon, is everything okay?” Tyler asked, a concerned tone lacing through his words.

“I—um—” Dallon stuttered before something broke: his fumbling words collapsed into heavy sobs, and suddenly, he couldn’t breathe.

“Dallon, breathe for me, okay? You’re okay. Just count in and out. Slowly,” Tyler prompted him.

Dallon almost wanted to cry more because _someone cared?_

“That’s it,” Tyler continued once Dallon managed to take several deep breaths. “Take your time.”

“I’m so sorry,” was all Dallon was able to stumble out.

“Shh, don’t apologize,” Tyler voiced gently. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

Dallon ran a hand over his face. “I just can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what, Dallon?” Tyler was _so_ calm.

“Live.” He laughed. “I can’t keep this up.”

Dallon heard some noise on the other end. Then, the sound of a door closing. And Tyler spoke again.

“I’ve been where you are,” Tyler started to speak, the words coming out like molasses. “Sometimes, I’ve wondered if every day’s struggle was even worth it. If I mattered. It’s like you get tunnel vision, you know?”

There was a slight pause.

“It’s like you become trapped in everything that’s plastered in dark and black. The days seem long, every bad instance is amplified, and you feel so alone.”

Dallon spoke quietly. “How do you get out of that?”

“It’s not easy, and I still struggle with it today,” Tyler responded. “But I think you just have to open yourself up instead of hiding everything inside. You have to do what makes you happy personally, and not care about anything else. It’s tough. It’s _really_ tough, but it’s worth it.”

“That’s too much effort,” Dallon shook his head, leaning against the cabinet underneath the sink. The metal handles dug into his back. “I just want the easy way out at this point. I’ve been working so hard to just stay afloat and hide everything and not fall apart. I can’t keep up.”

There was another pause.

“Is that bad?” Dallon continued meekly.

“I understand how you feel, Dal,” Tyler responded slowly. “But you’re missing out on so much. What about music? What about our friends? What about _Brendon_? There’s so much to work for. Plus, every battle you’ve gone through won’t go to waste. It just takes time, and it’ll work out.”

“I guess,” Dallon mumbled, but he took particular notice to how Tyler had separated his _friends_ and _Brendon_ into different categories. But he understood, because Brendon was always something more than just a friend, but lately, Dallon had just been distant.

“I think you have to start small. Recovery can seem daunting, but you can put simple things first like drinking water, taking a shower, being positive, and even not relapsing,” Tyler resumed talking, and Dallon heart leaped at his last word.

Dallon remained silent. _Did he know?_

“Just take it a day at a time,” Tyler continued softly.

“Well, drinking water and taking it a day at a time won’t help me get into a good college,” Dallon mumbled.

“You keep saying that, Dal. I heard what Brendon asked you at lunch, and I’m going to reiterate that: do you want to get into a good college?”

“I guess—I don’t know—No?” Numerous responses spilled from his mouth.

“I think there’s the problem.” Tyler’s lips moved into a slight smile. “I think you have to be more honest with yourself.”

Dallon sighed in defeat, but he sat up slightly more straight. “I guess I do.”

“I think you have to be more honest with your friends too. Hiding this from everyone will not help the matter, and you’re wasting too much energy in the process. It’s so freeing just to openly admit what you are going through. Josh helped me to learn that,” Tyler continued, and Dallon could hear a smile in his words toward the end.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Dallon breathed out.

“Do you still feel like you don’t want to live?”

It felt so strange to hear that out loud, but Dallon answered honestly nonetheless. “Now, I’m just exhausted, but I guess I don’t. I’m just a bit overwhelmed at how to deal with this all.”

“For me, when I initially went to Lindsey when I was feeling low, she found a therapy group that I could attend, and it really helped. I’m sure that we can talk to Lindsey tomorrow, and she’ll help you create a plan to deal with this. We’ll work it out together,” Tyler responded. “I promise.”

“Lindsey?” Dallon shuddered instantly. “She’ll just watch me like a hawk.”

“Lindsey likes honesty, Dal. If you are open and she feels like she can trust you, you’ll be fine. Plus, she only is protective because she cares.”

“Okay,” Dallon took a large breath and began to stand up. “Okay. I guess we can talk to her.”

Tyler smiled. “I’m glad.”

“Thank you for listening and talking,” Dallon wiped the stray tears from his eyes. “I hope I’m not keeping you up too late.”

“You’re not,” Tyler said sincerely. “I’m always available to talk, and if you still want to talk more now we can. I just want you to feel comfortable.”

“I think I just want to sleep,” Dallon admitted.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then, okay?” Tyler asked gently.

“See you tomorrow.”

He let Tyler hang up, and the newly established silence swallowed the thick air.

He carried himself to his bed and let sleep greet him like a long lost friend.

 

 


End file.
